Playing With Fire
by carryon-vs
Summary: Episode 1.04. All Dean wanted was to hunt monsters and maybe save some little kids. A simple, clean, kill-the-evil hunt. But between Sam’s increasing powers and a town secret, simple may be too much to ask for.
1. Chapter 1

Carry On...a Supernatural Virtual Season

Episode 4: Playing With Fire

Authors: Fandrea and Ghost

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural or it's characters, basically any characters familiar from the show. They are properties of the WB, CW and Eric Kripke.

A/N: Carry On...A Supernatural Virtual Season picks up at the end of All Hell Breaks Loose part one and then ventures on with a what if scenario that takes the Winchester brothers through heaven and hell while fighting to save the remnants of their splintered family. See our bio page for more information.

Summary: Children in Westlake are disappearing. Dean and Sam suspect a rawhead, and Dean especially is looking forward to a simple monster hunt. All he wanted was to hunt monsters and maybe save some little kids. A simple, clean, kill-the-evil hunt. But between Sam's increasing powers and a town secret, simple may be too much to ask for.

PART ONE

The suburban neighborhood was unusually quiet for a warm evening. The sun hadn't gone down yet, but no kids were playing in the streets, not a soul walked down the street or a car passed by. But that's why people loved the neighborhood besides the fresh air. It was peaceful, didn't have the traffic of the downtown. The Burman house stood out even among the other nice houses – ironically, because it looked so normal. It was not as fancy as the rest of the houses owned by people of the upper class, proving that sometimes, simplicity was the best. With its simple pastel coloring and dark roof, green lawn, fence and little decoration, the two story building looked nice among the too decorated houses, it was a picture of a perfect family house. The inside of the house matched the outside perfectly, the furniture and the decoration were fairly simple all over the house but it looked inviting. It fit for the children's room too, the pink furniture went well with the white walls, which had cartoon figures decorating them. The sounds of someone playing could be heard from the room. Claudia was busy playing with her doll, Molly. She was her favorite, even though she had Eve and Ann too. She had a tea party with them. She wanted to go outside, but her momma said she didn't like it when she couldn't see her and she was known for being a troublemaker.

As she was pouring some more "tea" into the doll's cup, she heard a noise, it sounded a lot like scratching. _It could be a rat,_ she thought. _There was one in the basement last week. _She carried on chatting away with Molly, Eve and Ann.

"Claudia, dinner is ready!" her mother shouted from the kitchen. Claudia looked up.

"I have to go now, ladies, but you just have fun without me." She excused herself from her dolls and got up to go to the kitchen. Then she froze. There was that noise again. It came from under her bed behind her. She turned around only to come face to face with something she had never seen before. It looked like a living statue, big, muddy and moving! The weirdest thing was the strange thing on its forehead. Claudia couldn't place what it was. Claudia stood rooted to the ground until the statue reached out a hand towards her. Then she ran towards the door, but the monster yanked her back and clapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her screams as it picked her up and carried her away. She struggled, her small hands and feet kicking desperately at her attacker, but it was in vain. The thing carried her regardless and they were gone a few seconds later.

Just a few moments later the door to the room opened and Mrs. Burman came in, still muttering about daughters not listening.

"Claudia, are you sitting on your ear? Dinner is ready."

But when she looked around, she didn't see Claudia anywhere.

"Claudia?" she asked, but there was no answer and the room looked normal. Where could her daughter be then? Maybe she was in the bathroom? And what was that odd smell? It smelled like wood. She hurried out of the room shutting the door behind her.

-o-

The Impala stood waiting to be filled up in an otherwise empty gas station. The station looked filthy, but the Winchesters had been to worse places. The brothers were back on the road again after the gate opening. They decided to leave Bobby's yard so they could go look for and hunt down the demons…and their dad. But they had yet to have a clue where the demons, or John, might be or what they wanted. Which is why Sam decided to call Bobby, who also kept an ear to the ground.

"So, no sign of him yet?" he asked hopefully.

_"No, sorry kid, I wish I could help, but so far, nothing." _Bobby sounded regretful over the phone.

Sam sighted in frustration. "It's like last year all over again." And they all knew that year hadn't been any better with the costant fear and worry for John who left them without so much as a word. It was for their safety then. Now, with their dad quite possibly being on the other side, it was much worse. Not knowing was much worse.

_"Yeah, I know. Listen, I heard about a case. Kids going missing in Arizona. You're close, and being that it's kids involved, it's worth a look at."_ Sam raised an eyebrow.

"And how is that our case?" he asked, knowing that Bobby would not offer a case to them if he wasn't sure. In that moment, the door on the driver side opened and Dean got in carrying two battles of water, some sandwiches and candy bars. He tossed them on the backseat and looked at Sam taking into the cellphone held to his ear.

_Bobby?_ he mouthed. Sam nodded, while he continued to listen to their friend over the line.

"_A girl, Claudia Burman, disappeared last week from her room, right under her mother's nose and it was in the evening. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room though. I didn't have the time yet to look into it very far, but it did turn out she wasn't the only one disappearing this way. It may be too early to tell, but I think it could be a rawhead. I know you want to find the demons and your daddy, but it's worth looking into. The demons are not the only evil out there, you know that."_

"Yeah." He sighed, he knew Dean wasn't going to be that easy to convince. "We can look into it. What did you say again, where was this?"

"_Westlake, Ohio. And you two be careful."_

"You too, thanks Bobby." Sam ended the call and put away his cell.

"So, did Bobby hear anything?" Dean asked expectantly.

"No, nothing of the demons, or Dad yet, but he did find us a new job," Sam filled him in.

"Oh yeah, where?"

"He said Ohio, not far from here. He said something about kids disappearing. He thinks it's a rawhead. But he didn't have the time to do more research. I think we should look into it."

"Sam, you know there are more serious things to worry about, like Dad and the horde of demons out there, and for all we know, it might not even be our kind of case." And the old argument was back again. Sam knew he was in a losing situation, but that didn't mean he would give up.

"I know, but the demons are not the only monsters out there and we have no idea where they are or what they want, much less where Dad is. But we can't ignore people in need of help just because we're busy." Dean looked unsure, but he had to admit, Sam was right. They didn't know anything and they had no clue where to start looking either. And they sure couldn't ignore people in need of help. Besides, they had looked into less before.

"All right, but if it's a bust, you do the laundry for the month," he said finally. Sam grinned, enjoying the little victory for the moment. Dean started up the car and the brothers drove off towards their new destination.

-o-

A few hours later they walked up to the door of the Burman house. They wanted to start on the case as soon as possible. Dean loked around from the door while Sam knocked.

"Nice neigborhood, would be going stir crazy here, though," Dean remarked looking at the street and the fancy houses. The idea of staying in one place, especially in a place like this, didn't appeal to him. He just wasn't the type to settle down. He had a taste of what it was like when he had been attacked by that djinn, but it wasn't his life.

The door opened and they were faced with a very desperate Mrs. Burman, dark circles were under her eyes and her hair was pulled in a messy ponytail. She looked at the brothers suspicously before asking, "Can I help you?"

"Actually, we are from the FBI, I am Agent Gillan and this is my partner, Agent May," Dean said introducing them.

"Oh, come in." Mrs. Burman stepped to the side, allowing them to enter. "What is the FBI doing here? I already talked to your agents," she asked them, while she led the brothers into the living room, a little confused since she already talked to the FBI about her daughter's case. The brothers shared a look.

"Well, we have new leads on your daughter's disappearance, it turns out she was not the only one in this town to go missing," Dean said cutting straight to the point.

The woman looked shocked. "What do you mean, she is not the only one missing?"

"We mean that several kids went missing in the past few weeks," Sam interjected. "Can you tell us about Claudia's disappearance?"

"I can only tell the same thing I told the police and even they hardly believed me. They never said anything about kidnapping, they thought Claudia just ran away, but everyone who knows her knows better then that. She was a troublemaker sometimes, like all kids, but she would never do anything like that. And now the FBI shows up," she said with a frown on her face.

"We just have to check all the facts, Ma'am, so could you tell us what exatly happened?"

Mrs. Burman sighed. "There is not much to tell. Claudia wanted to go outside and play, but I don't like her being where I can't see her, so I told her to play in her room instead. I called for her when dinner was ready, but she didn't come down. After awhile I went up to her room to tell her to come down, but she was nowhere to be found and the room looked the same as always, only there was a weird smell, like wet or burning wood, but there was none of it in the room."

"Was there anything out of the ordinary? Besides the smell of wood I mean, did you notice anything strange? In Claudia's behavior or around the house?"

"No, I haven't noticed anything."

"Can we see Claudia's room?" Sam asked finally. There really wasn't much to go on. No description or anything that would give them a clue as to what took Claudia.

"Sure, if that helps. It's upstairs, second door to your left." Mrs. Burman stood up from the couch to show them to the room.

Claudia's room was undisturbed, just as Mrs. Burman said. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for the police to be suspicious. But the brothers didn't look for the same things as the police. So far neither of them found anything, no traces of sulfur or EMF. Until Sam looked under the bed. There, hardly visible in the dim light was a muddy footprint.

"Hey Dean, check this out." He motioned his brother over.

"Well that fits Bobby's idea of a rawhead," Dean said looking at it.

"Yeah, but this is an upscale neighborhood, not the usual place for a rawhead. And we have no clear description whatever it is." Sam looked thoughtful, they had never seen anything like this before, it could be a rawhead, but he felt like they were missing something.

"Right, but it happened before and we have seen stranger things," Dean contradicted.

"Yeah, but we need to know more," Sam said. He didn't want to go in guns blazing when they weren't sure what to kill and how to kill it.

"All right, we will hit up the library then," Dean concluded as they left the room.

-o-

Meanwhile, in a dark and wet underground cave the sounds of a small child crying could be heard. The place was ominous. There was hardly any illumination provided by the lights sitting on the ground and it was full of bones. There was a camera in one corner and a cage in the other. Claudia had been there for days, she was scared and alone. She wanted to go home. She was dirty and bloody and her clothes were torn, she was cold, hungry and in pain. She had been locked in a cage ever since she got here with nothing but herself to keep her company. She wished at least she would have been allowed to take one of her dolls. She didn't know why she was brought here or what the monster was that brought her here, nor did she care. She just wanted to go home. This place was scary and she hated the cage. But the keys were too far for her to reach . Her sobs and hiccups grew louder, but no one seemed to hear her.

"Somebody, Mommy, help me!" she whispered between hiccups. She tried shouting, but her throat was already raw and she couldn't do anything more than whisper now.

Then she heard something, like talking or muttering, but she couldn't make out what was beeing said. Then, the muttering stopped and she heard footsteps. Was someone coming for her? Or was it the monster again? This couldn't be good. Claudia scrambled back against the wall. She was scared. She drew her bloody knees up and hid her face. But what if it was someone who finally found her to save her? The prospect of someone coming to her aid and taking her home was enough to have her peeking up fearfully.

She could see the lights illuminating the place and the camera standing in the corner. She frowned in confusion, then she saw the monster coming in. She drew her knees up and hid her face, fresh tears rolling down her face again. She could hear it coming closer and closer and she curled up further agains the wall, if it was possible, even more. Finally, she could hear the creaking sound of her door beeing opened and felt heat. She looked up, curious and afraid at the same time. What she saw was the last thing she ever saw. The monster leaned in close with its hands oustretched and glowing. Apparently that's where the heat came from, because it burned. Unable to hold back, despite her raw throat, she let out a blood curdling scream that echoed through the walls and tunnels underground. She was still scrambling back, trying to escape, only to find no way out. And there was no one else to hear it, except for her and her captor in the abandoned area.

-o-

Hours after their visit to Mrs. Burman, the brothers were at the library trying to look up information on the remaining missing children and their disappearances – the latest, a boy named Jerimiah Riger, had vanished only a day ago. They had visited the other parents as well, only to get the same tale. Parents found no one in the room where the kids were supposed to be, as if they dropped off the face of the earth. The rooms were not disturbed and the only common thing was the smell of burning or wet wood and the muddy footprint. There was no description of a corpse turning up, which was weird. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had notes and books spread out in front of him and he was coming up with little. They found out more about the kids but there was nothing so far to connect them. _We're missing something._ They needed more information and fast.

Dean was bored. He didn't like libraries. It wasn't that he couldn't do research, but he didn't like it. All libraries were the same. _Tons of old books and computers, middle aged and ugly librarians._ He glanced over at the librarian, who smiled at him in what Dean assumed was her version of a seductive manner. Dean shuddered, he was so not going to flirt with her. He didn't get why Sam loved this place so much. But Sam was in his element here, it was his kind of place. He looked over at Sam, who had his nose buried in a book and was writing down something. But Dean couldn't ignore his stomach any longer.

"Sam, we have been here for hours. I'm starving," he said. As if on cue, his stomach chose to let out a loud growl. Sam chuckled. "I'm serious, I'm hungry," Dean said again.

Sam sighed. "Dean, I just want to make sure, we go in prepared," he said. He knew they were missing something and it was driving him nuts. And the last thing he wanted was to go in under prepared and get himself or someone else, or worst, his brother, killed.

"What, you don't trust Bobby?" Dean looked incredulous.

Sam looked him in the eye. "I do, but, Dean, I can't find a good description anywhere and I just feel that something is off. Three kids missing with no witnesses, and no clues as to who took them? And no bodies? A rawhead would leave something behind after a day or so, Dean. You know that." He knew he was arguing, but he couldn't help it. He was taught to trust his instincts and they said something was missing and maybe they were in the wrong.

"Yeah, but it doesn't have to have left it on the family doorstep. Sam, the MO fits – big, muddy monster taking little kids. It's most likely dragging them up into the woods. That's where we'll find the remains. So let's stop with the Nancy Drew routine and go kick its ass," Dean said still not convinced. He was sure it's a rawhead, it fit despite the odd, un-rawhead like stuff and that meant they could go out instead of sitting in this hole.

Sam sighted a long suffering sigh. "Dean I am telling you, we are missing something. And going in guns blazing and not one hundred percent sure is dangerous, you know that." That was the best argument he had. He was sure they were off and it was going to bite them in the butt. He needed to know more.

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother, but he had to admit he was right, they didn't have a lot to go on. "All right, if makes you feel better geekboy, you can search for more, but I'm getting some food." Dean stood up. He was hungry and hated libraries, especially ones with ugly librarians who wanted to flirt with him, so it was no competition, food or boring library with an ugly librarian. If Sam wanted to do more research, fine, but he was out of here. Preferably someplace with good food and maybe a cute waitress.

Sam shook his head, amused, when the door closed. He was impressed Dean stayed this long. He knew Dean hated libraries and research, preferring to leave it up to Sam. And he knew Dean's stomach, too. But that still didn't quell the irritating feeling of something missing. They had too little to go on and Sam knew better then to go into a hunt ill-prepared. And knowing what happened the last time they hunted a rawhead was not making things easier. In fact he would be happy if he never hunted one again. The image of his brother unconsious in that basement and the fear of losing him was burned in his mind forever. Or the fact that they should be looking for the demons that got out and their dad and they didn't have a clue on their plans either. _Yep, definiely too much like last year, _he thought as he again picked up the papers and the book he was reading with a troubled sigh. He had a feeling this case was not going to be a cakewalk.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Dean was alone in the motel room. He had decided to go back there after getting food to satisfy his grumbling stomach. Now though, the food bags laid on the bed forgotten, the food eaten, and he had Sam's laptop pulled out and opened in front of him. He decided to make use of his time alone to do some research himself. But it wasn't about their current hunt. It was about something else entirely: the computer screen was showing Google results to "hearing voices". Dean felt bad for keeping this from Sam, but he wasn't ready to talk to Sam about it. It was bad enough with Sam having freak issues, he would surely freak out if he knew about Dean's, he didn't need to add to the growing pile on Sam's plate. But so far the best reason he could find was schizophrenia. But he knew it was not the case and that it was not going to end well, it never did.

Of course there were all kinds of supernatural possibilities as well and Dean was going stir crazy, but the list for possible culprits was too long and he didn't know enough to narrow the list. He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He had been at it for hours and there was nothing. Speaking of which, what was Sam still doing at the library? He got that it was his Mecca or something, but he should be back already–, he noted with a frown, looking at his watch. He turned back to the laptop to carry on with his research, only to hear the door open. Hurriedly, while Sam came in, he shut the windows still open.

"Looking at porn again?" Sam teased, grinning as he dropped his bag and sat down on his bed.

"Oh, shut up. I was bored," Dean muttered, but inwardly he was thankful for the small favor. "Did you find anything?" he asked, then quickly changed the subject.

"Nothing. We know the kid is missing, but we have practically no description of what happened or what took her, and we don't know when it's gonna strike next," Sam said frustrated. He walked over to the table and turned over the laptop to start researching again.

"But we have a clue on where it lives. We should go check out those woods." Dean stood up to pack. They could find out more in the hideout and that was more up his alley. Sam looked on shocked. "Whoa, hold on a minute. Dean, those woods are a couple hundred acres. We don't know where to start looking. And besides, it could be something else. We have nothing to go on but missing kids." Sam was not going to let his brother go in without even knowing what it was for sure, especially with what happened the last time they hunted a rawhead. The memory of that hunt was still too fresh, even after months. And they both knew never to go into a hunt half prepared.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Did I say we have to get it now? I only meant to scope out the area. See if we can pick up a trail. Whatever it was, it had to have left from the Berman's yard. We start there and see if we can track the thing," he explained. He was slightly offended his brother would think he would make such a mistake. He may have been the "Shoot first, ask questions later" kind of guy, but he knew better then go in ill prepared.

"And if we don't find anything?" Sam asked, like he still wasn't sure. Dean looked at his brother frowning. What was this all about? This was not like Sam.

"We look again. I thought you wanted to save the kids," he replied somewhat irritated.

Sam glared back at him. "You know I do, but I won't go in blind. We need to be better prepared," he said, gritting his teeth in frustration.

"Since when?" Dean demanded incredulously, then frowned again as Sam turned his back. O.K, what was this really about? He needed to know. Now. "Okay, what's going on?" he asked finally.

Sam was uncomfortable, he knew this was coming sooner or later. It must have been showing on his face, judging by Dean's concerned frown. "Nothing, I just want to play it safe," he said, but it sounded lame, even to his own ears. Dean still looked at him with disbelief written on his features. He wasn't buying that, he knew there was more to it. Sam sighed.

"Did you forget what happened when we hunted a rawhead the last time?" Sam asked with a troubled look on his face. He was having doubts about this whole thing. He needed to know more and the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye was still niggling at the back of his mind.

Dean sighted. He should have seen it sooner. "No, I haven't. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't hunt one again. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but you can't keep expecting me to kick the bucket every time we hunt," he said. He got it, he did, he didn't forget the feeling of Sam dying in his arms either, nor did he forget what happened on that hunt, but he would go crazy if he lived his life in fear. Running and hiding was not his style. Sam had to understand that. But the look on his face said otherwise. –"Because, why? You're being so careful lately?" Sam said giving Dean a flat look. This time it was Dean's turn to sigh in frustration. He was not in the mood right now.

"And you are?" he shot back. But he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. He knew this was an unfair thing to say that. He softened his tone. "Look, I only want to look around for a trail, not pick a fight with whatever it is."

Sam still seemed to hesitate. "All right, just promise that if we do find something, we are not charging in. We come back later and prepared." he said, looking at Dean. Dean sighed again, but nodded, alreay knowing it was impossible to say no to his brother, especially when he looked at him like that. Those goddamn puppy eyes always worked.

"All right." he said, relenting. "But that goes for you too, no charging into anything," he added. Sam nodded, standing up to start packing himself. Dean, already packed, headed out to the Impala. "Be ready in five," he told his brother as he closed the door.

Sam carried on packing with a bad feeling already settled in his stomach.

-o-

The woods seemed to never end. The Winchesters had been hiking through the woods for hours, trying to track what might have taken the little girl. So far they hadn't come across the thing, but it was leaving a very visible trail of blood, broken branches and footprints, which was disconcerning to Sam, who was still not sure that this was a good idea. Dean looked at the trail. "This thing is leaving a trail the size of a mack truck," he muttered. That made Sam tense even more. It was out of character for a rawhead, they preferred blending in, even though they were big. Sam shook his head with a sigh, the bad feeling settling over him again. The brothers set out to follow it once more. Seems they were in for a long trek.

The trail ended at a large pond. _Great, they had to separate_, Sam thought with dismay. It never ended well. Dean glanced around and came to the same conclusion. He didn't like the idea of splitting up either, knowing his brother's ability to attract just about every supernatural baddie in the universe. But they had no choice. "Okay, you head right, and I'll go left. We meet up at the far side," he said. Sam hesitated, he had a feeling this was not a good idea.

"You okay?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Splitting up is a bad idea," Sam said. Then sighed. "I just have a bad feeling about this," he added, looking unsure of what to say.

"You got any other options, Nancy?" Dean asked, somewhat irritated. Sam shot him a look somewhere between concern and irritation. They should have done more research.

"Just be careful all right?" he said finally. Dean looked at his brother. "You, too," he said, meaning it.

The brothers grabbed their weapons, taser guns and, just in case, their pistols. Then they parted ways, Sam went right, while Dean went left.

Sam searched for what seemed like hours, but he suspected he was on the right trail. Finally he stood in front of an entrance of a cave. It looked ominous in the dark and Sam had to suppress a shiver. _This must be the hideout, _he thought, shining his flashlight inside. He flipped open his phone and dialed Dean's number, but only the voicemail answered. Sam expected it, since they usually had their phones muted with vibrating turned on when hunting. He left a hurried message that he found the hideout and ended the call. He didn't want to risk anyone, or anything, hearing him from the inside. With a sigh, he headed in.

The cave was even creepier. Dark, wet and cold and the tunnels seemed to never end. Sam followed along the trail of blood, but it soon became more then that. He could see bones and even complete skeletons along his way, which meant he was getting close to the actual hideout. He wondered if the little girl was still alive. His flashlight caught onto something. _Wait a minute!_ he thought. _These are not child sized skeletons. _He frowned. Rawheads only went for kids, despite their size. It was like a rawhead gospel or something. They never went for adults. This clearly indicated they were dealing with something else, which was unnerving.

As he neared the room at the end of the tunnel he could hear noises and his heartbeat sped up. The thing they were dealing with was here.

It was like someone was munching on something – cracking and breaking, like someone sucking the marrow from a bone. _Eeww, _Sam thought as he crept closer to the entrance. He stayed just out of sight, but he could see the thing now. It was eating, munching on something. Sam guessed it was human bones. It had its back to him and it did look like a rawhead hunched over. Sam wanted to go closer to get a better look, but then a small crunch sounded under his feet. Sam looked down on the remnants of a small bone cursing inwardly.

Of course it heard the noise and stood up to face Sam. Standing up to its full height, Sam could see it was taller then an average rawhead and there was something strange on its forehead, but Sam didn't have time to see what it was as the thing growled and charged at him. Sam raised his taser gun and fired…only to miss. The monster knocked him to the ground with a force that drove the air from his lungs and left him winded. They began to tussle, Sam trying to pry the thing off of him and it trying to pin him down.

Finally it got off of him after a good show and Sam raised his pistol this time. But the thing got up and swiped a hand in his direction sending Sam flying into the nearest wall, the gun skidding to the other side of the room. Sam was weaponless. He got to his knees, only to see it charge at him again, frighteningly fast for its bulk. Sam saw no other option, he raised his arms to shield himself as a feeble attempt at blocking the attack. That's when he felt a strange sensation in his head, like something popping. Next thing he knew there was a blinding agony in his skull. He groaned as the waves of pain hit him. Then he heard a loud crash and a howl that had him grinding his teeth even more. He had a suspicion what happened, but he refused to believe it. It was just like at the Miller house last year in Saginaw, but he thought that was over. He looked up to see the thing running away. He got up, vision still swimming in and out of focus. He used the wall for support and stumbled to his knees as soon as he let go. He cried out as he was hit with fresh pain. Then he felt something dripping from his nose, he reached up to wipe it off, only to see it was blood.

"Sammy?" a familiar voice shouted and a second later he heard footsteps coming in. Dean had heard his brother's message after a fruitless search and quickly headed over. He was glad he did, judging by how bad his brother looked.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, kneeling next to Sam, taking in his pallor and his bloody nose. "Your nose is bleeding," he said frowning and reaching for a rag in his pocket to wipe it off and stop the bleeding.

"…t's n…t a rawh…d." Sam's voice was muffled and slurred from behind his hands.

"Run that by me again?" Dean asked, confused.

"I said it's not a rawhead." Sam raised his head from his hands. "I'm sure of it. I have no idea what it is, but it's not a rawhead," he continued, wincing a little.

"Ok Nancy, where do you get that from?" Dean asked, still not getting it.

"Could you help me up?" Sam asked, extending his hand. Dean hauled him to his feet and was pleasantly surprised when Sam was able to stay on them.

Sam walked over to the body the thing was eating before attacking him. Dean followed him, still confused. Sam sighed sadly, they were too late. He recognized the little girl's face from the pictures, it was Claudia. Or what was left of her anyway. It looked like she had been dead for some time. But then he noticed something. There were burn marks on her body. He pointed to them. "Dean look at those. What kind of thing leaves burn marks like that?"

"I don't know, seems like you are right after all. We do need more research," Dean said. He really didn't know, he hadn't seen anything like this before. "Let's get out of here and back to the motel before whatever it is decides to come back," he said finally, taking his brother by the arm and leading them back towards the woods and the Impala.

-o-

Almost an hour later found the brothers back in the motel room again. Both were sitting at the table trying to figure out what the thing in the woods was. Sam was sure it was not a rawhead now, but then what was it? But that wasn't what scared him the most. He knew it was only a matter of time before he used his powers again after the graveyard and the YED, but still. He wasn't a fool, he knew they were dangerous and now, apparently, out of his control too, not that they ever were under control. It was frightening, he knew it was exactly what the YED wanted for his plan.

He didn't want or ask for any of it, yet it seemed as if the decision was already made for him and that was the worst part. He shook his head – _Focus! _– he berated himself, this was a train of thought he would rather not go down and this didn't help on a hunt. They had to figure out what he saw.

"Dean, I'm telling you, I have no idea what that thing could be," he said frustrated.

"Well what drags off kids and munches them like McNuggets besides a rawhead?" Dean shot annoyed. There were not many options for them to consider besides a rawhead.

"Well, what kind of thing leaves burn marks like that?" Sam shot back, just as irritated.

That made Dean pause. _Right. The burn marks. _Rawheads usually hated fire and they didn't have the ability to burn and sure as hell never cooked their meals.

"Okay, so we know it's not a rawhead, we're back at square one. Where do we start?" he relented finally.

Sam leaned back in his chair. His headache and nosebleed were really starting to bother him. One more reason to hate his powers. Dean saw it and handed him the cold bottle of beer he'd just opened. Sam took it and pressed it against the bridge of his nose. It felt wonderful for his aching head.

"We find out its habits, its M.O., and we work from there," he said. He didn't have any better ideas. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"Okay, one: it likes to eat kids, and apparently some adults as well. Who the hell were the big skeletons?" he asked. That was again unlike a rawhead, since they only went for kids.

"I have no idea," Sam said tiredly. He rested his head against the chair with a small groan. Dean looked at his brother concerned.

"You feeling any better?" Dean asked. "Because if that headache doesn't pass soon, we might need to get you to a doc. What happened anyway? Thing hit you?" He hadn't seen what went down in the cave exactly, but whatever happened it involved an injured younger brother and that didn't sit well with Dean. Sam stiffened at his question then raised his head to look at Dean with an expression of fear.

"No, it didn't hit me. It didn't touch me. It couldn't," he said softly and uncertain. Dean raised his eyebrows. That was new. "Couldn't," he repeated cautiously. He had a feeling where this might go and he didn't like it.

Sam looked away from him. "Apparently I threw it away when it tried to attack. With my mind," he said looking at the floor. He knew this was coming and sooner or later he had to tell Dean about it, but it didn't make it any easier. That took Dean by surprise. His brother's powers returning was bad news. He had hoped it was over, that they could forget them, but knowing their Winchester luck, not to be. _Couldn't they ever catch a break?_

Sam saw the look on his face. "I am sorry, Dean," Sam started, not really knowing what to say, "I didn't mean to…" he stammered.

"Hey, hey," Dean cut him off, swallowing. "It's not the best news I've ever heard, your powers coming back, but you would be his dinner right now if it weren't for them. Besides, this happened before, and it took a year to come back. Maybe it's a passing thing," he said trying to sound convincing. Sam nodded, not convinced at all. He hated this. He hated his powers, the Yellow Eyed Demon and his plans. He hated all of them! Yet he couldn't do a single thing about them. "Besides, you always were the freak-magnet. Guess you need some mojo to deal with it," Dean continued, cutting into Sam's thoughts.

"Very funny, Dean," Sam muttered, but obviously he wasn't angry. Dean was just trying his best, even now, when he was still spooked. His brother, his constant anchor. But he wasn't finished yet. "Look, Sam. We can't do anything about it, and we don't understand why you can do these things. I think for now it's best just to leave them alone. You hear me?" Dean said with as much authority in his voice as he could, like a strict parent.

"I hear you," Sam said. But he didn't sound very convincing.

"Sam?" Dean asked again forcefully.

"I said I heard you, okay? I won't do anything using these powers. It's not like I ever choose to do anything with them," Sam snapped, irritated. But he was in total agreement. He didn't plan on using his powers anytime soon.

Instead, he refocused his attention to his laptop. They had a case to research and some missing adults to find and a monster to catch. He didn't get very far as the police scanner on the table next to him sprang to life. Sam didn't have to look at it to hear the announcement of another kid disappearing, this time a boy called Jeremiah. The brothers looked at each other while listening with troubled looks. They had to hurry or another innocent kid might die. Sam went back to work with a sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

Sunlight slanted in the motel room through the door as Dean came in. Sam was where Dean had left him, sprawled over the laptop, fast asleep. He'd been working on it when Dean had gone to bed, still toiling when Dean had gotten up to take a leak in the middle of the night, and had been collapsed across the table almost cuddling it when Dean had woken up this morning.

Dean had thrown a blanket over him on his way out, but that was about as far as brotherly concern went in this case. Sam knew where the bed was.

Still, Dean couldn't help but smirk at the image of Sam, hugging his computer and drooling on the table. Dean tossed the greasy bag of food to the tabletop, intentionally sliding it into Sam's shaggy head.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey." He set down the coffee cups.

Sam jerked awake, blinking in the morning light and simultaneously rubbing an obviously stiff neck and wiping the drool from his face. "Dean? What time is it?"

"Late. You slept in, Sammy."

Sam yawned. "You left?"

"I brought breakfast." Dean nodded to the food bag.

"Thanks," Sam said, and Dean smiled at the tone of near desperation as Sammy grabbed for the coffee.

Dean snagged the food bag back, pulling out a breakfast sandwich. "Anything?" Dean asked, nodding at the computer.

"Remember the thing on his forehead I told you about?"

"You said it looked like something was written on it."

Sam nodded, fetching his own sandwich. "There was. I looked it up. It was a Hebrew sigil. This sigil is most often printed on a scroll – and the only monsters I could find that have scrolls stuck in their heads are golems."

"Golems?" Dean frowned. "The one from Prague, right?"

"Yep," Sam confirmed, almost swallowing his sandwich whole. "It's Jewish folklore. Golems are summonings – creatures called from the void to inhabit bodies made of clay or mud. Some of them can burn by touch."

"That explains the scorching," Dean observed, and Sam nodded again.

"It's summoned by a person to do their bidding. Normally that's protecting a town or village. They are defensive creatures by nature. But golems are slaves; they have no free will, and they're pretty much unstoppable – unless you remove the scroll and kill the person who summoned it in the first place. Problem is, we don't know who that was." Sam gulped the coffee.

"So to stop this thing, we have to find out who summoned it in the first place, then off him?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Well, that's swell." Dean could feel his stomach churning around the sandwich. He grimaced as he crumpled up the wrapper.

Sam nodded. "Yep. I was just thrilled too. And, we have no idea about who the summoner could be."

Dean frowned. This was supposed to have been a cakewalk… now it was turning into a pain in the ass. Even knowing what they were facing wasn't going to help in his case. The monster wasn't the problem, or not the only problem. To stop the monster, they needed to identify the creator. Well, the first rule of hunting was to define patterns…"Do golems go after kids usually?"

Sam looked surprised. "I should have thought of that. No, golems do exactly what they're told, no more, no less."

"So there should be some connection between the maker and the kids. Maybe someone they bullied?"

"These kids were like, six, Dean. Even if they were bullies, I don't think a first grader could summon a golem. Even a really advanced one."

Dean had to admit Sam had a point, no matter how snidely he was grinning. "Maybe a parent of the bullied kid?"

"Maybe," Sam said, looking doubtful. "But don't you think golem building is a little extreme to stop a school bully?"

"Are you kidding? Some of these yuppie moms would do it in a heartbeat for their precious little angels," Dean smirked. "We should look into the kids' backgrounds. See if they've had any discipline problems or if school friends have died recently. That would be motive for murder by monster."

"Fine. But, Dean, even if we find the maker, we can't just kill a human."

"Do we have a choice?" Dean demanded. "Human or not, they're killing _kids_. And you know people are crazy, crazier than demons. Nastier sometimes, too."

Sam just started at him with those too-honest eyes. "But we can't just go around offing humans; that's not our job."

Dean shrugged. "No, it's not. But stopping monsters is, and if that's what we have to do to end this, then that what we have to do, Sam."

Sam's jaw worked. Dean could see the argument in his eyes, could see the words pushing at the back of his teeth…and was relived when he didn't push it. Yet.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess," Sam said instead, but his shoulders were still tense and he wouldn't meet Dean's gaze. "Right now, we still have to find a connection. Find out who's doing this and why," he finished.

"You hit that up," Dean said, jerking his chin at the computer. "I'll head to the police station, see what else we can dig up there."

Dean stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth and gave Sam a pat on the back as he stood up, using the opportunity to wipe his greasy fingers on Sam's shirt. He grinned as Sam glared at his back as he walked through the door.

And he knew without looking back that that Sam was already back on his laptop.

-o-

Privately, Dean was convinced that every police station in America had come from the same three floor plans. All of them were drab, all of them were mazelike, and all of them made him just a little…not so much nervous, as hyperaware of how out of his element he was – a feeling that had only gotten worse after his encounter with the FBI after that sorry excuse for bank robbery back in Milwaukee.

The Westlake Police Hall was no different.

Dean suppressed his distaste for the surroundings as the sheriff came up. A heavy-set, unfriendly kind of guy, who wore his authority like he wore his pistol – openly and obviously.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking Dean over with a practiced eye.

Dean was used to it, and ready for it. He carefully maintained his stiff shoulders and pleasant expression. He pulled his FBI badge out of his suit jacket with a practiced flip. "Yeah, I'm Special Agent Gillan. I'm looking into the disappearance of little Jeremiah Riger. Can you show me the file?"

The sheriff frowned. "Why are you feds so interested?"

"Because it's the second child to disappear in less then a week. That's a pretty big number in a small town, don't you think? Are you saying you _don't_ find that strange?"

The sheriff glared for a second more, just to let Dean know who was in charge – then he turned, motioning him to follow into the office. Once inside, the sheriff sat behind the desk, spinning around a file that he'd been working on. "I have to say, I do find it a little too much for just coincidence," he admitted. "I have a bad feeling about this one. I have my doubts that we'll find either him or the little girl. We just have no leads. My best hope is that this is some stranger who will move on now. Too bad, really. He was a nice little boy who didn't do anything wrong. He didn't deserve this."

Dean noticed the way the sheriff stressed the pronoun. He glanced up from the file. "_He_ didn't. So who did?"

The sheriff frowned, looking stern, "It's not my place to be gossiping like that." But Dean could see that light in his eyes, the one that said he was itching to share a good story. It was a light Dean knew well, and loved to see.

"We both know that little things that seem to have no importance can end up breaking a case wide open. You should tell me."

The sheriff hesitated, but then nodded. "Can't hurt for you to know. It's all public record, anyway. And that little boy was a polite thing. Good natured. Always smiling. Him I liked. It's his parents that I can't stand."

"Oh yeah? How so?" Dean said, putting on his 'supportive' face.

The man leaned back in his chair, rocking a little. "It happened a long time ago, probably everyone else has already forgotten it. But I worked the case. Sometimes stuff sticks with you, you know what I mean?" He waited for Dean's nod and continued. "Anyway, there was a boy, his name was Jesse Fleishman. He hung out with a gang of kids. The five of them were best friends. Jesse, he wasn't a bad kid, but the ones he chose to throw in with…"

"Rough, huh?" Dean asked.

The sheriff smirked. "_Moneyed_. Which was worse. They were bored and reckless and their daddies bought them out of trouble instead of teaching them to avoid it. Well, Jesse, he had a little brother, Mikey. Kid tagged along with them every chance he got. They were rough with the little one. Always teasing, always pushing. Of course Jesse defended him, though maybe not as much as he should have."

The sheriff sighed, leaning over his desk, and Dean knew they were getting to the point of it. "They were about fifteen when they all decided to steal Jesse's dad's car. They wouldn't take Mikey, not even when he threatened to tell their parents. Of course there was an accident. They were driving drunk and hit someone. Turned out it was Mikey, he followed them somehow and caught up. The _friends_ fled the scene and never got charged. Jesse was left there heartbroken by his little brother's death and betrayed by those who he thought were his best friends."

"Sad story," Dean said, biting back the slow rise of excitement. "You think it has anything to do with Jeremiah's disappearance?"

The sheriff hesitated, but eventually shook his head. "I just really can't see how."

Dean shrugged casually. "Couldn't hurt to check it out, anyway. Do you know where Jesse lives now?"

"He lives in town. Down on Rice street." The sheriff scribbled the address down on a piece of paper. "You think he may be connected to the kidnappings?"

"Probably not, but I only want to ask a couple of questions."

The sheriff pulled out his glare again. "Jesse is a good kid, he changed after Mikey's death. And for the better. He wouldn't hurt kids."

Dean took the address. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

-o-

Dean had his phone out before he made it all the way down the stairs outside the station house. He hit Sam's speed dial excitedly.

"_Hey_," Sam's voice came after a couple of rings. "_What's up?_"

"The sky, the birds, the trees…" Dean answered, pulling his keys from his pocket and crossing the street to his car.

"_Did you find out anything?_" Sam sounded irritated. Dean smirked.

"Who's the most awesome big brother in the world?"

"_You found something_."

"And the greatest hunter?"

"_Something good. What did you find?_"

"Say it," Dean said, opening the Impala's door. "Say who's the most awesome big brother and the greatest hunter in the world combined."

"_You are, Dean_," Sam's tone was so dry that the Sahara would have seemed lush in comparison. Dean could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes. "_Now do you want to share this great find of yours?_"

Dean settled himself in the car. "I think we have a name. Years ago, there was this kid, Jesse Fleishman, who lost his brother in an accident. Guess who he was best friends with _and_ who left him in the dust after causing said accident?"

There was a pause, then an almost sad sigh from the cell. "_That would definitely be motive,_" Sam agreed.

Dean frowned though, his excitement falling away at his brother's lack of response. "Dude, is there something wrong?"

"_Wrong?_"

Dean huffed. "I give you the solution to one of our most confusing cases ever and you react like a slug. What gives?"

It was Sam's turn to huff. "_Nothing, Dean. I'm fine. But I slept at a table last night, if you remember. I'm a little tired._"

It was more than that, and Dean knew it. Just like he knew that the weird…sounds that he occasionally experienced were not figments of his imagination, nor were they going to go away all on their own. There was something wrong with him, and there was something wrong with Sam; but, damn it, he didn't _want_ there to be something wrong with Sam…and he definitely didn't want there to be something wrong with _him_. He just wanted to hunt monsters and maybe save a little kid. A simple, clean, kill-the-evil hunt. Why was that so much to ask?

It wasn't. Not if he just decided that Sam really was a little tired. And that he really wasn't hearing things. If they didn't talk about this crap, it didn't matter, right?

Dean forced himself to smile, letting some of the bounce back in. "Hey, we need to get on this, like now, if the kid has any shot of surviving it," Dean said to Sam. Work would keep him busy, and keep them both from worrying about things that just didn't matter. Besides, it was true. Their time was limited here. The clock was ticking down on little Jeremiah, if he was still alive at all. "Meet you back at the motel?"

"_On my way_."

-o-

The little boy shivered as he stared through the bars of his cage.

His little knuckles were raw and bloody from banging uselessly against the bars; his voice was gone after hours of screaming and crying. Now, even most of his tears seemed gone. Used up and disappeared, leaving his eyes puffy and red and sore.

He pushed himself against the cage, shoving himself almost painfully into the bars. His feet scraped as he tried to get more leverage, to push harder. It was a cruel game. The keys had been set on the floor, just out of reach. The boy would never be able to get to them, but he just kept struggling, hurting himself in his attempts. A video camera blinked in the corner, documenting his fight.

Finally, his little face bruised from the pressure of the bars, he slumped down, pulling his arm back inside his pen. He could feel the burn in his eyes and nose and throat – and he knew his body wanted to cry – but he just had no more tears.

After a few minutes, the big lock on the cage door caught his eye. He'd seen locks like that before. His daddy had one on their shed. He stood, only a little dizzy, and limped over to the door. He tried to get the huge lock off, but it was too heavy and it wouldn't budge. He was stuck. Then he heard the voice.

"Hello, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah backpedaled, staring at the form with wide fearful eyes. He wanted to shout, he wanted to cry, he wanted desperately for his mother to come and hold him and make it better – but he couldn't make any of those things happen.

The shadows moved toward him.

-o-

It really didn't take long to find information once they had a name. Sam and Dean sat in the motel room and stared at the laptop, reading the article printed across the screen. They had to be sure on this one. They not only had to know what was going on, they had to have proof. If they had to kill the creator in order to stop the monster, they had to have air-tight evidence that the human they killed was the guilty party. There could be no mistakes on this one.

_Deadly Accident Claims Child_, the headline declared. A picture of the friends group was on one side of the article at the top. A small one of little Mikey graced the bottom corner. "Five teens are suspected of being involved. One, the victim's brother and grandson to a local rabbi, will be charged with driving while intoxicated, driving without a license, grand-theft auto and manslaughter. No charges are expected to be filed against the other teens," Sam read out loud. "Now how is that fair?"

"The kids' parents had money. They wanted them to go to the Ivy League, not the state pen," Dean observed. "Does it have the names of the other kids in there? They look familiar?"

Sam scanned the article. "No, but it shouldn't be hard to find them." Sam pulled up a high school reunion networking site and found that Jesse Fleishman was a registered user. "Figured. He likes to keep track of people," Sam muttered.

Dean nodded, his expression dark. "If these guys were involved in the death of my brother and left me hanging for the crime, I'd keep track of them too."

Ten minutes later, Sam had hacked into Fleishman's account. The site pulled up a list of people Fleishman had gone to school with, including pictures.

"There is no privacy anymore," Dean said philosophically as he leaned in to study the names.

"There is no right to privacy listed in the Constitution," Sam said. "It's only assumed."

"Good. So we're not violating anyone's Constitutional rights. Because that would be awkward." Dean rolled his eyes. Sam came up with the weirdest crap sometimes. Then he pointed at a picture on the website. "I know that guy. Roger Burman. That's one of the kids from the group photo."

"And the father of the second missing child," Sam added.

"I think we found proof of connection, Sammy."

Sam nodded, almost sadly. "Yeah, he's connected to the parents of the kids who have disappeared. I agree that Jesse Fleishman is probably the one who summoned the golem. But, Dean, we can't just kill him. He's human."

Dean sighed. It wasn't that he disagreed with Sam at the core, it was just a matter of degree. "Sam, you saw what he did to those other kids. We don't exactly have a choice. He will use that monster to tear Jeremiah Riger to little bitty pieces. And we can't stop the golem until he's dead. The golem is indestructible until he isn't breathing. You told me that. I don't see that we have a choice."

Sam's jaw clenched. "It's still not right, and you know it. He's human."

Dean frowned. "He's killing children. That's not really human anymore, Sammy. This douchebag _chose_ to do this! He actively sought out dark powers and is using them to kill kids! Trust me, I know a lost cause when I see one."

Sam didn't look convinced, more like he was just refusing to argue anymore.

"All right, fine. Where do we start? Find his address and check his house?"

"Sounds reasonable to me."

-o-

The house was smaller then Sam had expected. But then again, Jesse had gone to prison for several years. Between the loss of education and the loss of social networks, Jesse Fleishman had grown up to be just another working-class guy.

Breaking in was easy. Jesse didn't believe in locking windows, apparently. But then again, with a magical killing machine at your beck and call, home security was probably a non-issue.

Sam and Dean wandered the empty house, but there was no sign of Jesse or his creation.

The bedroom was a mess, cluttered with old books and religious icons. The bathroom was plain and stained. The basement was wet, and the kitchen was dirty. Jesse either lived like a pig, or he hadn't been at home much lately.

The living room was drab, and furnished with second hand stock. There was a photo album on the coffee table. Since there were no photos anywhere else in the house, and few personal items at all, it caught Sam's eye. He flipped through it, recognizing clippings of the same newspaper articles that they looked up online. There were several other pictures of the group of 'friends' – at a party, at a roller rink, in front of a car. It looked to Sam like the same car in the newspaper article. The one that had later killed the little boy. He turned the page – and found a small picture of Mikey, grinning and toothless and all cheeks.

Sam shut the book. Hard.

Dean glanced over at him.

Sam shook his head. "Jesse's been taking a little nostalgia trip."

"Never a good idea when you're depressed and killing people," Dean replied, clicking his tongue. "Dude, look," Dean pulled an old looking book from the shelf as Sam joined him. He flipped thought it before shrugging and handing it to Sam.

The pages were in Hebrew. As Sam riffled through the elegant and foreign script, a picture slipped out from the pages. A stern looking older man stood unsmiling with his hand on the shoulder of a boy. Sam flipped it over. "Jesse with kishsheph, 1981," Sam read aloud, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

"_Kishsheph_," Dean frowned. "Why do I know that word?"

Sam cocked his head, searching his memory. "The newspaper article said that Jesse's grandfather was a rabbi, so it's logical to assume that it's a Hebrew word. Other than that, I have no clue."

Dean looked interested, and a little distant. Sam could tell that he was struggling to pull the meaning of the word from his memory. "Rabbi, I know – but what's a kishsheph?"

Sam looked at the picture again. At the amulet the older man wore, at the air of power that surrounded him even in a photo. "I don't know, but ten to one it's a magic-user of some kind."

Dean snapped his fingers. "That's it. Kishsheph. It means witch, Sam, in Hebrew. Dad read about them to me once. I remember the word because it sounded so strange to me." Dean gave Sam a weighted look. "If you take a kid who has accidentally killed his brother and is after revenge, and add in a history with a rabbi and a kishsheph…"

"You get a recipe for someone with the skills and drive to make a golem," Sam finished.

"Yep. And he's not here. Doesn't look like he's even been around for while, either. He's probably out in the woods with his pet monster. They shouldn't be too hard to track if he's still using that cave."

Sam nodded, but there was a hesitant look in his eye.

"What? You still having doubts about taking out Jesse?"

Sam shrugged. "No. He's killing kids. He has to be stopped. It's not Jesse I feel bad for."

Dean accepted it at face value. Sam tried to be relieved about that.

"Okay, then," Dean said, already striding toward the door. "Let's go stop the bastard."


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

Sam eyed the downward slope of the cave entrance with more that a little trepidation. It gaped from the earth like a mouth to Hell, the long, gentle slope of it like a throat. The cave wanted to eat him.

Okay, he knew that was ridiculous. But he just had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was what had happened the last time, maybe it was just nerves – and maybe it was something else – something that he just didn't quite remember. That he didn't want to remember. Something about being alone and _in the dark and scared…and there had been a door that loomed like the mouth of the cave…_

Sam shuddered violently. That had never happened. Never!

A quick, hot blot of pain stabbed through the muscles of his back, distracting him. He bit his lip and waited for it to pass. It did that now, every once in awhile. He was getting used to it.

Without realizing it, Sam pushed the images back down where they came from, refusing to consciously acknowledge them. The pain helped with that.

But it didn't change the fact that he really didn't want to go into that cave. And he didn't want his brother down there either.

Still, somewhere, down in that dark, was a kid. Lost and alone and about to get ripped limb from limb to atone for the sins of his parents.

They had to go in there.

Sam's gut churned at the thought of it.

"Sam!" Dean hissed, giving him an irritated look. Dean was already sheltered at the right side of the opening, pistol out, ready to go. He glared at Sam, who was still hovering at the edge of the water, rather then taking his position on the other side of the opening.

Sam sucked it up and focused on the job. Save the kid, kill the monster, get out of town.

It sounded normal, it sounded like family – it sounded about perfect. Everything else could wait.

He got into position and moved with Dean into the dark.

-o-

They could hear the voice echoing up the tunnel of the cave before they had gotten more than a couple dozen feet in. It bounced from the wet walls – the hoarse sobbing of a hurting child was a low, hopeless counterpoint. Sam's chest ached in sympathy. Dean's eyes narrowed, and he quickened their pace just a little. But as much as the soft sobbing wrenched at Sam's heart, he was still relived to hear it. A kid had to be alive to be able to cry.

Further down, light spilled from around a slight twist in the tunnel. Dean and Sam approached it carefully. The echoing voices from inside grew louder until they began to make out words.

"I'm sorry, little one," came the voice, calm and reasonable and completely insane. "But sometimes the blood of the innocent has to be spilled to grant justice. I need for your family to know pain, real pain. I need them to know what I went through; what I'm going through. This pain won't ever pass. They have to _know_ what I'm feeling; what they put me though. This is the only way to ensure that."

Sam shot Dean a panicked look. Whatever was happing, it sounded like Jesse was going to kill the little boy _now_. Five minutes earlier, and they could have crept toward the room, let their eyes adjust, known what they were up against before entering Jesse's area. Now they were just going to have to plunge in, and hope for the best.

Dean nodded, obviously thinking along the same line, and they both hurried toward the light, moving quietly and fast.

"Have a better life on the other side, child. Goodbye, little Jeremiah."

The words come just as Sam and Dean rounded the corner.

Sam blinked once as his eyes adjusted to the somewhat brighter light. The cave had opened into a cavern of sorts; a low, jagged ceiling pushed down ominously into the small space. Flood lights had been set up in strategic places, a gasoline generator chugged in a spot near the 'door' providing power to the lights. They were aimed at the far side of the room, highlighting a small cage and the boy trapped inside. A video camera was positioned to record the coming gore. Sam felt his stomach twist, realizing that Jesse Fleishman intended to relive his murders over and over and over again.

Jesse had gestured as he spoke, and from a dark corner a shape surged forward. It was like watching a chunk of the wall move itself. Its feet thudded with the weight of its body, the very stone of the cavern seemed to vibrate with the power of it.

Jesse had opened the cage door to allow the creature easier access to the cringing boy inside. He was waiting patiently for his monster to come and do the dirty work.

Without hesitation the golem obeyed its maker's summons – moving implacably toward the cage, intent on ripping the child inside apart piece by piece. It wasn't slow – but it wasn't fast either. Like a train gaining speed, it surged the few feet to the cage as Sam and Dean entered the room.

"Call it off, Jesse," Sam said. His pistol leveled on the man's head while Dean took aim at the golem. "Just let the boy go. He didn't have anything to do with what happened."

Jeremiah had scrambled back, pushing against the edges of his cell, desperate to get away. But there was nowhere to go.

"I am afraid I can't do that." Jesse's eyes darted between them, he edged sideways, trying to put the bulk of the monster between him and the gun. "Somebody has to pay!"

"Knock it off!" Dean yelled. "Stop him and stand still or we will shoot you! Stand _still_!" he commanded, and Jesse froze. As if connected to his master, the golem twitched to a stop like a toy running down. Its bulk blocked both the cage door and any clear shot on Jesse.

Dean hissed in an aside to Sam, "Dude, how am I supposed to shoot a rock?"

Sam ignored him, focusing on Jesse. "Somebody did pay, Jesse. You did. You hurt your brother and you paid for that. You're still paying. The child is innocent. Just like Mikey. You're not getting vengeance – you're just committing the same crime over and over again."

"No," he growled, shaking his head so hard that his hair flew. "No! It's not the same! It's not the same! They took Mikey from me! Then they left me there! They sneered at me and judged me – but I knew where my grandfather's old books were, and I knew what the old witch had taught me when I was a kid. And I knew they would feel what I felt! An eye for an eye! What could be more holy that that! I want them to feel the same way I did after Mikey died. I want them to feel _everything_!" The words came out so fast and so thick that spit flew.

"We aren't going to let you do that," Dean said calmly. He cocked the pistol. "Some things you can't share; some things you just have to live with."

"And some things you can't escape, no matter how much you want to," Sam finished. "And you're not taking any more innocents with you."

Jesse didn't wait for them to shoot. Dropping down behind his creation, he began to mutter, the words coming fast and in Hebrew.

The monster was turning even before Jesse started chanting. It rotated toward Dean and Sam, raising hands that began to glow, a deep, sickly orange as the rock and clay of its massive hands became lava. The heat was so strong that Sam could feel it even halfway across the room, tightening his skin and pulling out a fine sweat on his face.

"Watch it, Sam!" Dean shouted, but then the golem was charging, moving ridiculously fast for such a big, heavy form. Dean fired one round, but it did nothing to the creature, and they had to dodge out of its way – Dean going left, Sam right.

The monster stumbled several steps past them before reacting and turning.

"Moves like a train, steers like a cow," Dean observed. He shot at t again, but though the bullets penetrated the body, they had no effect. It turned its back on Dean, moving toward Sam, building speed.

Sam noticed none of it. Jesse had used the distraction of the golem's first attack to dart away, dragging the boy from the cage and using him as a human shield. Jesse had a knife, and Jeremiah was bleeding from the pressure of it as the man held it against his neck. The little boy whimpered.

"Jesse, let him go!" Sam said, trying to find a shot.

The man shook his head again, crouching as much as he could behind the boy, blocking the opportunity for any safe shot. "This is not my fault! What happened to Mikey was not my fault! And I will make them pay!"

Maybe it was because Sam was confronting Jesse, because he was the one threatening its creator – but the golem roared, going after Sam.

Sam felt the heat of it. The burn had him dropping and rolling away instinctively before he even registered the monster was there. He ducked the monster's scalding grip and scrambled away from it.

Jesse moved, dragging the boy backwards. Edging toward the far side of the room, his eyes darting to the exit, just beyond the struggle between Sam and the golem. As the golem again charged Sam, Jesse had his eyes locked on Sam and the golem as if directing the monster somehow. Slowly the golem lunged and grabbed at Sam, maneuvering him around the edge of the cavern and just past the opening to the exit.

Jesse began creeping toward the door. Sam could see him, but was helpless to stop him as he dodged the monster.

Jesse was going to get away – with Jeremiah.

That was, until Dean stepped away from the wall where he'd been waiting and pistol whipped him.

Sam couldn't help the small smile as Jesse dropped like a rock. Dean reached out and collected Jeremiah, pulling him away from the man on the ground.

The smile was short-lived, however. The golem stumbled, temporarily cut off from the input of its creator. It went down, its superheated hands catching on the gasoline generator next to the wall.

The explosion tore through the room.

Sam slammed backward, hitting the cavern wall hard. He slumped, dizzy and aware of the fact that his face _burned_.

He could hear a kid screaming.

Up. He needed to get up.

Sam forced his eyes open. The room swirled and jumped like a bad movie. Sam shook his head, trying to clear it, and almost fell over. He pushed himself up and made it as far as his knees, blinking in the heavy light.

The room was chaos. Gasoline from the generator had caught fire when the golem touched it. The resulting explosion had not only taken out the lights, it had thrown burning gasoline all over the room. Fires burned everywhere, providing a flickering light that was not helping Sam's scattered vision. Smoke was filling the tiny cavern. The air was already thick and hot. And the golem was moving again – unhurt by the explosion, and still obeying the orders of its creator like a good little soldier. Vaguely Sam realized that Jesse had to still be breathing; if he wasn't his monster would be free.

The golem had Dean and the boy cornered, backed up against the cage. Dean was standing in front of the kid, blocking the monster with his own body, but there was nothing Dean could do to stop the creature from fulfilling its orders. The monster reached out, its oversized and misshaped hands glowing with unnatural heat, its eyes blank and merciless.

Sam's heart thudded painfully. Cold fear ran through him, the prickly sensation of it only intensifying the ache in his head and the burn in his chest. There had to be something, some way to stop this, to force the creature down, because Dean would never move, and the creature was never going to stop until he killed the boy, and that meant that Dean was going to die, that Sam was going to have to see his brother die –

"_No_!"

His powers ripped from him in a rough, huge, and cold wave. The swell of unrestrained force slammed through the cave, simply leveling anything it touched. The fires died out as it passed, instantly smothered. Jesse's unconscious body flipped up and was flung aside like a leaf in a maelstrom. He slammed into a wall and dropped, not moving. The golem was simply tossed like a rag doll, flicked away from Dean and the boy. But wave rolled on. The very walls of the cavern shifted as that it hit the edges of the room. A low rumbling began to vibrate the air.

For a second, the air was the only thing that moved, and the walls as a low thrum began to beat, and the first of the rocks started to give way. Sam dropped his head, unable to take the look in Dean's eyes as his brother stared at him. Dean looked almost…frightened.

Then Dean blinked as if waking up, breaking the moment. He swallowed turning his face away.

"Cave in," Dean stated flatly as more rocks began to fall. "We need to move. Now."

Almost on cue, the place began to crumble, big chunks of stone cracking and separating from the walls. "We gotta get out! Sam! No!"

Sam ignored Dean. He had stumbled to his feet as soon as Dean had turned from him. He had wanted to go to his brother, make Dean look him in the eye, make sure that he had imagined the rejection he'd seen for just a second in his expression…but he was afraid to. Afraid that he would find exactly that if he went to Dean right now. So instead of going toward his brother, toward the way out, he'd headed the opposite direction. This wasn't over. Not yet. And, damn it, at least he could finish it. He staggered across the room, falling to his knees next to the golem – who, like a beetle on its back, was struggling clumsily, trying to get up but weakening after the death of its maker.

Sam's gaze met its carved eyes as he reached for the mark held on its forehead with a mound of mud and clay. It began to reach for him with its burning hands.

Sam jerked the sigil free of the clay.

Instantly the golem began to crumble; falling apart, dissolving back into the base elements that had formed it.

Its face went last. Its eyes locked on Sam's as its dissolution progressed. And Sam recognized the expression on the lumpy, misshapen face – it looked at him with something like gratefulness. Sam froze, locked into place by the kindness he could see in it now. It was a creature meant to protect, to help and serve – and it had been used to kill innocents and destroy lives. It had never been meant for such purposes, so far from its original intention. It had hurt the golem somehow, to be used in such a way. Monster or not, it had hated what it had been forced to do, what it had been molded to become. Reluctantly, Sam felt a thin line of connection form – like recognizing like.

And Sam understood, now, why it had never been Jesse he felt bad for….

The moment was soon over; the creature's face separating and collapsing back into dust. Sam felt a brief wave of sorrow pass though him; not so much for the creature's passing, as for the pain of its brief existence.

"Sam!"

Sam was brought out of his reverie by Dean's shout, by the genuine fear and desperation Dean invested in that one syllable.

Sam looked around, blinking back the massive ache in his head, and sniffing back the blood that streamed from his nose.

The walls had begun to shake in earnest, and chunks of stone were starting to fall, a hailstorm of deadly proportions. "Sam!" Dean called again, a thread of command in his voice as he turned to collect Jeremiah.

Sam tried to stand, fighting to get himself on his feet. The agony in his skull swelled and blossomed, and black flowers began to blot out his vision. His sense of balance went with it, and he found himself folding back to his knees, struggling with his stomach. Absently he rubbed a hand over his face, confused when he saw it streaked with blood.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Move!"

He flipped a hand at Dean, trying to signal him to get the little boy out. To worry about himself. Watched blankly through the falling debris as Dean took the boy over to the opening and sent him running down the tunnel toward the outside.

Then he watched as he came back.

"C'mon, Sammy. We have to get out of here."

Sam felt his arm looped over Dean's shoulder. Felt the tug of it as Dean hauled his limp body to its feet. Around them the cave continued its collapse, it was like it was imploding in slow motion. And Sam swallowed, knowing it was his fault. He tasted blood. "I'm sorry, Dean," he muttered. Dean and the boy could have been killed by this cave-in. A cave-in Sam had triggered. "I'm so sorry."

"Later, Sammy," Dean hissed, dragging him toward the tunnel as the ceiling rained down. "We run like hell now, and I kill you later."

Sam thought that sounded pretty good – especially the being killed later part. Being killed later meant surviving now. Sam forced himself to focus, to move, helping Dean as much as he could as his brother guided them both to the exit. And being alive later seemed more likely as they made it to the more stable tunnel.

The sunshine at the end guided them out as the cavern collapsed completely behind them, burying Jesse Fleishman, forever alone with the monster he had created.

-o-

Sam stuffed his last shirt into his bag. Behind him, Dean was tucking his FBI suit back into its garment bag, getting it ready to store in the upper part of the trunk.

"You know, I think you were right," Sam said suddenly, carefully not looking at his brother.

"You know I'm always right, Dean replied absently. "About what?"

"About my powers. When you said I should just leave them alone. I know I said it before, but I think they _are_ too dangerous. They almost got you and Jeremiah killed. They _did_ kill Jesse Fleishman."

"That was reflex," Dean shot back instantly. "You couldn't help that. Besides, Jesse was evil. And you don't _know_ that the powers killed Jesse. He could have been alive. It could have been the cave-in that got him. We didn't have time to go back in after him, even if we'd wanted to."

"I know," Sam sighed, "but that doesn't make me any less responsible. It doesn't make me any less of a monster."

"Hey!" Dean snapped, marching over and grabbing Sam's shoulder. His voice was hard, and his eyes were angry. Sam flinched back from that anger. "Don't you _ever_ say that," Dean growled, low and serious. "Not _ever_. You aren't a monster, Sam! What happened in the cave was an accident. You didn't _choose_ to kill anyone. Jesse Fleishman did."

"Neither did the golem," Sam argued. "The golem looked at me before it died, Dean. Like it was grateful. Like I freed it! It didn't enjoy what it was doing. It didn't want to kill. But it never had a chance. Just like me." He tugged his shoulder free from his brother's hand. "Not wanting to kill, not choosing didn't keep that thing from being a monster."

Dean made a noise, thick and angry and scared. "It's different, Sam. It is! That thing was designed to kill!"

"I might be, too!" Sam shouted, dropping his bag and taking a few steps back. "These powers, or abilities, or whatever…the yellow-eyed bastard forced them on me! I never asked for them. And we have no idea what they're designed to do! When he brought me back…he could have done anything to me! Made me into a monster. I'm just a pawn in _their_ plan. And my powers are too. They are serving the demon's purpose – if I use them, then _they_ can use me. These powers mean danger for everyone. I can't control them, and if I practice, if I _try_, the world may end up paying for it! _You_ may end up paying for it."

Dean shook his head. "No, Sam. No." He took a step toward him, and Sam realized he couldn't back any farther away because he'd automatically put his back against the wall without realizing it. "Sam, you won't hurt me. You'll never hurt me. I know that. Just like I know you're still you. No matter how you got back, no matter what they did to you – _you're still you_. And you are not a monster."

Sam could feel himself starting to shake. He worked to keep it from getting out. "How do you know?"

Dean put a hand on his shoulder again, warm and solid and _there_. "Because you're my brother and I know you. That's all I need to know."

Sam searched his eyes, looking for any doubt, any worry – but all he saw was his big brother, waiting for him to calm down.

So he took a breath, sharp and fast, and nodded his head. "Okay. Okay. But I'm not ever using the powers again. Not _ever_."

Dean nodded, pulling his hand away. "Okay. It's your choice, and I don't think that's a bad way to go. I know I tell you a lot that I think they're dangerous, and I'm serious about that; but keep in mind that if it weren't for your powers, you would have become the golems dinner and you would have never been able to kill it and save us."

"Or kill Jesse Fleishman."

Dean's eyes went flat. "He was human, but evil – just like what we hunt. You've done nothing wrong, Sam."

Sam nodded, but he didn't buy it. "The powers are dangerous, Dean. You have to see that." _And you have to be careful around me_. The words stopped in Sam's throat, choking him.

"I do see that," Dean replied, having taken Sam's statement at face value. "I'm just saying they might be handy after all. Now, you ready to get out of here? Or do we have to cry on each other's shoulders first?"

Sam blinked at the sudden change in tone, half offended – until he saw Dean's mouth, fighting his familiar wicked grin.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're a jerk, know that?"

"Better than being a bitch," Dean replied instantly and lightly. He shouldered his bag. "You want to walk to the car? Or do you want to just levitate yourself out there?"

Sam grabbed his own bag, grinning a little and headed out the door. As soon as Sam left, Dean's grin faded. He bit his lip, looking worriedly at the door. Then he took a deep breath, grabbed his garment bag, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Outside the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine roared to life.

_end_


End file.
